


Please Wake

by asthiathien



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bilbo POV, Injured Thorin, M/M, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Thorin Feels, mentions of euthanasia, the things I do to these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 03:05:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3158870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asthiathien/pseuds/asthiathien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of the Five Armies, Thorin Oakenshield lives, but he will not wake, and remains forever trapped in a silent slumber that may as well be the sleep of death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Wake

Five weeks after the Battle of the Five Armies, Erebor was already glittering once more with the glory of old, light shining in every corner and reflecting off the emerald stone of the mountain. The mines had been reopened, the great forges relit, the halls alive with the exiled children of Durin, come to reclaim their homeland.

But despite the joy that should have reigned, eyes bright with triumph and hearts exulting in the reclamation of Erebor, the halls were silent and solemn, faces grave as they nodded to those they passed. An air of deep melancholy hung upon the entire mountain.

For Thorin II Oakenshield, the beloved king-in-exile and the revered Lord of Durin's Line, who had braved the dangerous quest that eventually brought him and his people home, lay unconscious within the king's chambers.

Five weeks, and he had not so much as stirred from his slumber, and all within the mountain knew that as time passed, Thorin's chances of ever waking steadily fell. 

* * *

The story had already passed into legend: how Thorin Oakenshield had bested the curse of gold madness that had plagued the Line of Durin just in time to come to the aid of Dáin Ironfoot and his loyal soldiers, leading the charge into the center of the orc ranks, before heading to the isolated Ravenhill with only a few companions to defend him and managing to kill Azog the Defiler. 

And likewise was the story of Bilbo Baggins' defense of Thorin as he lay unconscious and dying memorialized in song right beside Thorin's own tale. The stories told of how Bilbo had stood unyielding before Thorin against a small army of Gundabad orcs, striking down foe after foe until reinforcements arrived in the form of the rest of the Company.

But the stories did not tell of what happened after: how Bilbo had kept Thorin from bleeding out even as the rest of the Company fought all around him, how Óin had desperately fought to keep Thorin alive and breathing as he was carried back down the mountain, how the elderly healer had spent hours trying to keep Thorin alive until finally declaring that he could do nothing more for his king.

* * *

The Company visits their king often, but no matter what they say Thorin ever remains still and silent.

Thorin heals, the terrible wound in his chest slowing closing over until the only trace of it is a deep scar marring the place just below his heart.

When Dwalin sits with him, the warrior always ends in tearful apologies about his failure to defend his king. Balin keeps up a precise report of the rebuilding of Erebor, Fíli and Kíli try to maintain a princely demeanour but invariably at least one of them bursts out into tears. The rest of the Company provides endless variations of encouragement that sometimes end in mournful requests to " _please_ , Thorin, _wake up_." And Bilbo. . .

Bilbo tells him stories, about Hobbiton and Bag End and the simple peace of the Shire. The way he narrates his gentle tales is quite different from the grandiose majesty of dwarven legends, and the hope in his eyes whenever he looks up to Thorin is made all the more heartbreaking by how his features become closed off in sorrow not moments later. 

* * *

"No."

Dwalin is on his feet, glaring at Óin ferociously, and Bilbo would be standing right next to him except he cannot muster the energy to do anything at all over the roaring shock.

"You cannot expect me to simply _accept_ that Thorin will never awaken - "

"It has been five weeks, Dwalin," Óin cuts him off. "You know the signs as well as I. Thorin has not once responded to our voices - even when I cleaned and dressed his wounds, he did not so much as flinch from the pain. He is lost to us, perhaps not in body, but most certainly in spirit. He will not awaken."

Dwalin sucks in a shuddering breath, and when he speaks once more, his voice is choked with tears. "So you want me to kill my king?"

Óin sighs and bows his head, reaching out and placing a gentle hand upon his shoulder. "No, I will do it. 'Tis gentler than allowing him to slowly slip away from us. And kinder."

"How - " Bilbo begins, but sorrow chokes his throat and he looks away, blinking back tears. 

"A poison made to be both painless and swift," Fíli whispers as he hugs Kíli close to him. "It will not hurt him."

At that last, Ori lets out a soft cry and buries his face in Dori's shirt as the rest of the Company huddles close to one another, each mourning the loss of their king and friend.

Finally, Balin looks up and lays his hand on his brother's arm. "Come on, lads. Let's get this over with."

Bilbo swipes angrily at his eyes and gets to his feet, the rest of the Company following suit as they begin to make their way to Thorin's chambers.

* * *

_Darkness hovers about him, pressing down upon his eyes until they ache for his fruitless attempts to see. Pain throbs at his heart occasionally, sometimes sharp enough that he is brutally reminded of Azog's sword piercing his chest where he lies against the ice._

_He hears voices surrounding him at times, but the only thing he can clearly hear is his own name, sometimes strong and crisp and at others barely comprehensible through breathless sobs._

_His body aches with exhaustion and he finds he cannot break the slumber he has entrenched himself in. The void beyond whispers gently to him, trying to draw him onward and away, but always he sees the face of his beloved hobbit flickering about him, sometimes bright with a smile but more often than not looking at him with fear terror heartbreak in his eyes and in those moments he is overwhelmed with a desperate need to apologize to the undeserving burglar and assuage the terrible hurt in his eyes._

_And underlying all of that is a burning regret, for Bilbo's love was plain to see on his face, but he never confessed to his own love for the hobbit burglar. And now it is too late, but Thorin would give anything for the chance to see Bilbo's eyes one last time._

* * *

Bilbo watches in silence as the dwarves of the Company say their final goodbyes, more than a few of them crying as they rejoin their companions.

Balin places the golden crown upon Thorin's brow, Dwalin gently braiding Thorin's hair into the style of kings. Fíli and Kíli place Orcrist atop Thorin's body and lay his hands over the hilt. 

And then it is Bilbo's turn, and the hobbit is slowly stepping forward and sinking into the chair beside Thorin's bed, leaning forward and clasping his hands together as he looks at Thorin's pale, still face. 

"Thorin," he starts, and his voice breaks, prompting him to swallow hard before he says his next words. "Thorin, I. . . I never told you this when you were alive, and I should have. I can't say how much I regret that. I. . . sometimes I wonder, if it - if it could have changed something."

Bilbo swallows again and leans forward, letting his tears fall at last.

"I love you," he says, voice wavering, and there is an intake of breath from at least one of the Company. "I love you, have since you walked in my door, even though it took me until the fight atop the cliff to admit it." He laughs sadly, before reaching out and taking one of Thorin's hands. "And if there's one thing I'm going to regret for the rest of my life, it's that."

He draws in a breath and takes the Arkenstone out of his pocket, pressing the shining gem into Thorin's hand. 

"This belongs to you," Bilbo whispers, and he curls Thorin's fingers around it and places his hand back over his heart. "Farewell, King Under The Mountain," and by the end of Thorin's title he's sobbing brokenly, pillowing his head upon Thorin's chest and crying his eyes out as the rest of the Company bows their heads, murmuring a traditional Khuzdul funeral goodbye. 

Bilbo doesn't know how long he remains there, but eventually a hand begins carding through his hair, and he would have remained still had it not been for the hoarse voice that whispers, "Shh, my little burglar," and Bilbo freezes, heart leaping with a feverish hope as he looks up.

And the king is smiling gently at him, brilliant blue eyes alight with love and affection and Bilbo exclaims, "Thorin?" and Dwalin lets out a startled shout as the Company's heads shoot up. 

"You - You're alive?" Kíli stammers, but both Bilbo and Thorin ignore him in favor of staring at one another in shock and delight.

"Thorin - " Bilbo starts, but Thorin takes his hand and presses a kiss to the back of it, murmuring a quiet "I know" before reaching out and laying a hand upon Bilbo's cheek. 

"Beloved, I'm so, so sorry," Thorin breathes, his eyes shining with tears and then Bilbo grabs his hand tightly and shakes his head.

"No," he hisses, "you have nothing to apologize for, you silly dwarf." And then Bilbo lunges forward and kisses him, feeling Thorin stiffen in shock before he slowly relaxes. 

"Stay with me," Bilbo says as he pulls back. "Promise?"

Thorin reaches out and wraps his arms around Bilbo, eyes closing as he draws Bilbo in so close that he can feel the beat of his heart. "I'm not going anywhere."


End file.
